


Always Be a Room for You

by runicmagitek



Series: Burn the Witch [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pre-Canon, Starting Over, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: Rinoa is still new to the Timber Owls and questions if her decision to leave Deling City for the resistance was the right one. Struggling to fit in, the holiday season leaves her homesick, but she promised herself a fresh start. Sometimes that also means picking those to call as her own family.A companion piece toCarry Me Home (I Thought We Had More Time), though also works as a standalone.





	Always Be a Room for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wingsyouburn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsyouburn/gifts).



> Happy Belated Christmas, braintwin! ♥

Lampposts caught snowflakes drifting in the night. A subtle wind rolled through the distant trees lost in the shadows like quiet, swaying giants. The occasional pedestrian scurried by, no doubt heading home for warmth. Or celebration, considering the endless fairy lights and pine wreaths embellishing Timber.

Rinoa sighed and slumped further into the small window framing the winter view. The Timber Owls’ train base didn’t qualify as a five-star hotel, but she valued the private cabin. It lacked a personal touch; once she secured a steady income, Rinoa intended to splurge on interior design. At least the Owls decorated the common areas for the holidays. They lined the halls with multicolored lights and festive chocobo and moogle ornaments. Bittersweet nostalgia twinged Rinoa’s heart upon passing the reminders of the season.

What pleasant childhood memories she still clung to included the winter solstice: opening presents by the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, devouring freshly baked gingerbread cookies, strolling the exuberant streets of Deling City, and most importantly, spending every minute with loved ones. More recent years comprised of military dinner parties, but even Fury was at his most tolerable towards the end of the year.

She didn’t need to worry about that. Not now or ever again. And yet her heart ached for something familiar.

 _Two weeks in and you_ _’re already homesick,_ Rinoa berated herself. _Geez, you really can_ _’t survive without the high-class nonsense, can you?_ The realization left her frowning and hugging her knees to her chest. _I guess I thought it would be easy, but I_ _’ve kind of invited myself here. I’m just another resistance member. Nothing to write home about. Not that I have any place to call home anymore._

Timber was by no means Deling City, though the residents had their ways of expressing disapproval; the urban socialites plagued galas with their gossip while the countryside locals sealed their lips mid-conversation and cast lingering stares. Rinoa didn’t blame them. She wasn’t one of them. Others appreciated her aid and enthusiasm, though no warmth extended past that. And for every new pair of eyes that locked onto Rinoa when she trailed behind her fellow resistance members, another wave of doubt nauseated her.

 _I don_ _’t belong here any more than I belonged in Deling City,_ she thought, eyes fixed on the gentle snowfall. _If I_ _’m going to make a difference in my life and this world, I’d rather do it here, where it matters. Maybe the people of Timber don’t want someone like me here... but I’ll have to work twice as hard to prove I’m worth their time._ Rinoa wrinkled her nose. _Besides, I can_ _’t go back to Deling City. I_ won’t _. I_ _’m not a failure._

A muzzle wiggled under her arm until a furry face popped into view. Rinoa’s eyes and lips widened when Angelo licked her tense face.

“Hey, girl,” Rinoa said, her calm words trembling despite her best efforts, “sorry to keep you worried about me. I need to stop fretting over things out of my control.” She ruffled those fuzzy ears and Angelo opened her mouth for a pseudo-smile. “I wish I was a dog. All I’d have to worry about is when I eat and sleep.” Angelo tilted her head. “Yeah, I guess life wasn’t easy before I came along. Mine wasn’t either before I found you, but we got each other now, right?” Rinoa sighed. “That’s better than nothing, I guess.”

Angelo perked her ears up, whipped around, and froze. Rinoa raised an eyebrow and followed the dog’s line of sight to the open door. Multiple voices bounced down the hallway. Feet shuffled closer. Subpar soundproofing made for several restless nights, but Rinoa smothered whatever complaints surfaced. A guest did _not_ complain. She winced as Fury’s lectures echoed from the depths of her mind, though the laughter barreling in dispelled it.

Both Owls and other resistance members entered. Two of those smiling faces stood out; Zone continued to leave an impression since her arrival—a salty one, but an impression nonetheless—and his partner-in-crime, Watts, asked her more questions than all of Timber combined. Maybe it was in her best interest to be wary. They had every right to pry information out of Rinoa after she waltzed up and deemed them worthy of her time and energy. Anxiety didn’t prickle beneath her skin with Zone and Watts present. Not yet.

“Hey, Rinoa!” Watts called out. “What are you doing all cooped up in here?”

She shrugged and gestured at her humble abode. “I more or less live here, don’t I?”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t lock yourself up here after every mission, you know.”

Rinoa snickered. “And yet the door is wide open.”

Watts blinked and examined where he and the group loitered. “Yeah, fair point.”

“I told you,” Zone droned out, “she likes it in here.”

“How do _you_ even know that?! Have you _asked_ her?”

Zone blinked, sighed, and brought his attention to Rinoa. The question never surfaced, but that quizzical expression said plenty.

“Eh.” Rinoa quirked her lips from side to side. “I wouldn’t say I love it, but I’ve stayed in worse.” _Have I? Ugh, what do I even know about—_

“She’s a stuck-up princess,” one of the boys muttered; subtlety was _not_ his strong suit. “What did you expect? Come on, let’s—”

“ _Hey_.”

Rinoa fluttered her eyes. Even Angelo stood up straighter. All attention focused on Zone, who glared at his supposed friend no different from the Galbadian military troops patrolling the streets.

“Need I remind you,” Zone said with faint indignation, “that _princess_ saved our butts the other night when we were saving those peaceful protesters from getting arrested. While _she_ was _literally_ disarming the foot soldiers, what was it that _you_ were doing in that time?”

The silence left Rinoa smirking.

“That’s what I thought,” Zone said. “Go look in a damn mirror before you start pissing all over her.”

Mumbles shifted through the group before they withdrew. As for Zone and Watts, they lingered, neither eyeing each other nor Rinoa. Once the annoyed whispers vanished, Rinoa shifted her legs over the couch and leaned forward.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rinoa said while rubbing her bicep.

“I don’t have to do a lot of shit,” Zone sighed out, “but here we are.” He lolled his head until he narrowed his eyes onto her. “And _you_ need to make more of an effort at mingling with the rest of us.”

She pouted and wrinkled her brow. “Hey! I’m trying!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“It’s not like I _haven_ _’t_ talked to others. I… don’t feel like I belong here.”

“It’s been what? Two weeks? This kind of thing isn’t going to happen overnight and even then, not everyone’s going to be best buddies with you.”

Rinoa lowered her gaze. “That’s fine,” she muttered. “Wouldn’t be any different from Deling City, anyways.”

After a pause, Watts added, “But if you keep pulling badass maneuvers like what you did the other night? Everyone’s going to be talking about you! They’ll have no choice but to get used to you!”

Rinoa grimaced. “I’m not sure that’s any better.”

“Hmm… maybe… but it’s like Zone said. It’s going to take time. We’re not city folk with everything going a mile a minute. Timber folks can be slow to warm up to, though once you’ve kindled something, then it’s… uh, hard to fade out… or something….”

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard,” Zone said, drier than the winter air.

“Hey!” Watts jabbed his shoulder and Zone never flinched. “You knew what I meant!” He looked back at Rinoa. “You do, too, right?”

She tapped a finger against her chin. “Sure? I guess I’m impatient. I thought I would be okay if I hit the ground running.”

“Well, sometimes you need to slow it down and jog or walk or none of that.” Watts slipped into the cabin with open palms. “Hell, we’re not liberating Timber in a fortnight. Might as well make the best out of a crappy moment and—”

“ _Geez_ , you _really_ need to work on your motivational speeches.”

Watts spun around and flailed at Zone. “Hey, you can back me up _any time_ you want, dude!”

Rinoa stifled her laughter. Was this what it was like to have a sibling? Her time as an only child left her oblivious to sharing the joys and pains of childhood and puberty—younger or older. Zone and Watts bickering and exchanging jests warmed her heart, albeit briefly. What if there _was_ a sister or brother? Would life under Fury’s roof have been more manageable? Maybe she would have stayed, if only to keep said sibling company. Or would it have been necessary to convince them to run away with her when they still had the chance? Her stomach twisted at the hypothetical scenarios.

 _Nothing would have made that situation better,_ Rinoa tried to convince herself. _This was meant to happen. It_ _’s for the best._

“Ugh, don’t mind him.” Watts shooed away Zone, almost whacking him in the face while waving a hand. “He’s always like this. That and the cramps—”

“Shut it, _Watts_!”

“It’s not like I’m making that up!”

“You _don_ _’t_ need to scream it from the radio towers!”

“Hello!” Watts spun around in the cabin. “We’re in a _train_!”

“Oh, for the love of—” Zone smacked an open hand against his forehead to squeegee down his exhausted features. “I doubt Rinoa wants to be bothered by our shenanigans. We should—”

“But it was _your_ idea to stop on by and ask her!” Watts crossed his arms. “Or did you forget?”

“Ask me what?” Rinoa piped in, simultaneously cautious and curious.

Watts spun back to face her. “You’re coming to the potluck on solstice night, right?”

Word of mouth circulated in the resistance forces of a get-together on the longest night of the year. No personalized invitation on premium paper, no way to RSVP, and no special instructions, aside from bringing food to share. Rinoa opted to ignore the giddy squeals over prospective meals and mingling. For all she knew, she wasn’t _actually_ invited. Maybe it was a Timber thing. No city girls allowed.

Except now Watts awaited her response with nothing but a smile.

“Um….” Rinoa tucked hair behind her ears before clinging to the edge of the couch. “I… don’t know if I have anything to bring.”

“Pfff, no biggie.” Watts jerked a thumb back at Zone. “For the last three years, this guy’s brought store-bought chocolate chip cookies.”

Zone shoved his hands in his pockets and glared. “And _you_ eat all of them.”

“ _Most_ of them,” Watts corrected him, “which is exactly the point! So long as it’s delicious, who cares? We’re all about the good company. The chow is bonus for us, like icing on a cake!” He paused. “I’m also not opposed to you bringing a cake. My favorite is chocolate with—”

“Are the _five cakes_ the Hawks bring all the time not enough?”

“No, Zone! They’re not! _Yeesh_!”

“If that’s the case, um....” Rinoa swung her dangling feet. “Yeah, I can make an appearance.”

Watts clapped his hands together. “Sweet! We’d love to have you there!”

Despite her efforts, Rinoa still frowned. _Do you, though?_

“For what it’s worth,” Zone added, his calmer demeanor garnering Rinoa’s attention, “the more the resistance members see you outside of operations, the more they’re going to remember Rinoa the Bubbly City Girl Turned Country Girl and not Rinoa the Kind of Scary City Girl.”

She couldn’t help but snicker. “ _Kind of_ scary?”

“What, is it totally normal in Deling City to disarm soldiers of their weapons?”

“You forget _this_ city girl went to a military prep academy, so yeah, par for the course there, but not so much elsewhere.”

“And that’s what people are taking away when they find out about you. They hear military academy and paint this image in their brains about you being a former officer or something.”

“Geez, prep academy is _way_ different from the actual military.”

“Yeah, well, no one knows that around here.” Zone narrowed his glare. “And finding out you _are_ linked to an _actual_ officer doesn’t help.”

Rinoa groaned and rolled her eyes. _Here I thought changing my last name would be good enough. These people really do their homework._ “Just because _he_ aligns himself with the Galbadian military doesn’t mean _I_ ever did or ever will.”

The silence pained her more than Zone’s initial words. Both the boys exchanged looks. Angelo whimpered and crawled halfway into Rinoa’s lap.

“You’re right,” Zone said. “I get that. Both of us do. And you’re good at what you do, Rinoa. Like _really_ good.”

“You’re almost making Zone look bad,” Watts added.

Zone elbowed Watts. “Shut up!”

“What?! You’ve been saying for how long now that you wish someone else did the talking aside from you?” He gestured to Rinoa. “And you’re all bark _and_ bite. Most recruits would have called it quits instead of standing up to those patrols the other day. You’re not afraid to do something. We need that.” Watts shuffled in place, struggling to maintain eye contact. “I wish the others would get that you’re not like _that_ outside of operations, you know? Which is why Zone thought... well, _we_ thought it would be great if you hung out with us more. You know, make it clear to the others you’re more than an angry ball of rebellion or what not.”

A slight smirk graced her lips. _I_ _’m far from angry, though I’ll take rebellious any day of the week._ “I just... feel like I’m intruding.”

“You’re not,” Zone said, “but it’s not going to make matters better if you don’t do more than show up when we need help. How else are people going to get to know you or vice versa? It’s going to be awkward, sure, but... I don’t know, I’m trying to help. That’s all.”

Rinoa combed her fingers through Angelo’s fur to anchor herself in the moment. Maybe the situation would sting less if she had anticipated reluctance. They didn’t need to explain it; their sentiments were valid and justified. And she was a stranger from enemy territory offering help. Not that Rinoa expected to be best friends with everyone, but she hoped to find a place to call home when she forgot the meaning of the word long ago.

And yet she also refused to return to that cage masquerading as a home and be nothing more than a feeble puppet.

“I appreciate it,” she eventually said, loathing how her voice trailed out. “I’ll see what I can bring. Can’t promise it will be anything too special.”

“You showing up is special enough,” Watts said.

Her smile reappeared, albeit briefly. “Thanks, guys.”

“Hey, not a problem.” Watts flashed her a thumbs up. “Look forward to seeing you there!”

Zone mirrored her expression and nodded before exiting the cabin. Watts followed like a shadow, his voice living in the walls as they traveled elsewhere.

“And what do you know! Didn’t cramp up or anything.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“But that’s a good thing, right? Before you couldn’t even talk to her without—”

“Alright! I get it!”

Rinoa snorted, thankful only Angelo was present to hear it. She reclined on the couch while silence returned to the cabin and snow fell from the night sky without a worry in the world.

 

* * *

 

The glittering image of Deling City throughout winter solstice never faded from Rinoa’s mind. From the strings of fairy lights to the faux candles, the cityscape shone brighter than the stars. The winter air didn’t stop the masses from walking the illuminated sidewalks in search for last minute gifts and a hot treat to combat the cold.  A part of her missed the chaos. Rinoa shook her head; nostalgia wasn’t enough to trade it with the streets she traversed now.

Timber was a different type of chaos the day before winter solstice. Inbound arrivals doubled at every station, each train spewing out weary travelers reuniting with friends and family. She squeezed past oblivious individuals, dodged stray suitcases and roaming children, and peeked back to check on Angelo. The dog trotted behind with ease. At least Angelo knew to keep up. None of the pedestrians possessed the urgency that was second nature to a city dweller; Rinoa was more impressed than annoyed at how three idle people gabbing at a street corner blocked traffic more so than rush hour did in Deling City.

The line out the door to The Moogly Woogly, though? Definitely annoying.

“I guess we’re going to have to wait like everyone else,” Rinoa mumbled to Angelo as they reached the end of the line.

She stuffed her hands in her hoodie’s front pouch and swayed on the balls of her feet, both to withstand the cold and boredom. The line crawled without a sigh or frown. Except for Rinoa. Angelo boofed and poked her side with a wet nose.

“Yeah, I know,” Rinoa whispered. “Doesn’t help that I’m hungry.”

When they finally entered the establishment, Rinoa stared at her surroundings. Not an empty table in sight. The display case, once stuffed with endless options, was barren. Multiple lines struck through sandwiches and treats on the chalkboard behind the counter. Rinoa pouted while inching to the front. _I_ _’ll be lucky if I can get something for myself, never mind the potluck._

“Rinoa deary! Oh my word, am I glad to see a familiar face at this hour!”

She perked up and eyed the grinning middle-aged woman manning the front counter. “Hey, Banessa. I didn’t expect this place to get slammed for lunch.”

“On this day of _all_ days?” Banessa clicked her tongue and shook her head while handing off a stuffed paper bag to the previous customer. “I didn’t get hundreds of custom orders the last two months for nothing, you know!”

Rinoa blinked. “ _Hundreds_ of orders?”

“Keeps the shop running.” Banessa tossed in a wink. “And me out of trouble. So what can I get for you, Rinoa deary? The usual?”

“I mean, if you even _have_ any left.”

“Soup’s still there. I think I heard Tilia say something earlier about a fresh batch of scones. Can’t promise there are any cranberry ones, but they’re all tasty, so don’t you worry.”

Rinoa smirked. “Coffee still hasn’t run out yet?”

A bellow of laughter cracked through the interior. “Not yet!”

While Banessa punched the order into the cash register, Rinoa smoothed her hands over one another and found her voice again. “Um... could I get something else on top of that?”

“Sure thing! What will it be?”

“I, uh....” She eyed the case again. Nothing but crumbs sat behind mini chalkboard plaques for the scones. “You said something about there being more scones, right?”

“You looking to take one for the road?”

“More than one, actually.”

Banessa paused and squinted at Rinoa. “What exactly is your definition of _more than one_?”

“Um, I don’t know? Enough to feed a few dozen people or so?”

Those pink cheeks deepened in complexion. Rinoa doubted it was from the icy breeze sneaking in.

“Rinoa,” Banessa said, all jolly humor dried up in her tone, “we can’t be feeding a small army at the last minute. We barely have enough to cover lunch today, let alone that _and_ all the special orders.”

“I know, I just—”

“You’re a sweet girl, but I can’t be making an exception for you. I can get what you need for lunch today and if there’s something in the case you want now, I’ll grab it for you, but that’s it.”

Dark eyes scanned the display case again. “Do you know if there’s anywhere else I could grab some baked goods from?”

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m sorry!” Rinoa tossed her hands up in defeat. “I didn’t realize I needed to put in an order two months in advance if I wanted more than two scones! I got invited to a potluck yesterday and I didn’t want to show up with—”

“All of this for a potluck? Pfff.” Banessa waved a dismissive hand and chuckled. “I don’t know what you city folk do for parties, but you don’t need to stress over a silly potluck out here.”

 _Except I_ _’m doing everything_ but _that._

“Don’t go spending a fortune,” Banessa continued. “It’s one thing if you’re feeding the extended family, but potlucks are about sharing from the heart.”

Rinoa shrugged. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Make something to bring, Rinoa deary! I hate to turn away your gil, but you’re better off slapping together a quick stew with some leftovers than splurging on cakes and pastries.” Banessa cocked her head. “Didn’t your mother ever bake and cook with you as a kid? Surely you know a recipe or two.”

Cold ghosted over Rinoa’s skin and the winter chill wasn’t to blame. Frozen eyes stared and glossed over. When she twitched her fingers to life and hissed in a ragged breath, she wished she never stopped by her favorite lunch location.

“You’re right,” she sighed out, the words trembling from her lips. “I’ll take my usual, then.”

Banessa didn’t protest, though she knitted her brows together, eyes lingering on Rinoa before ringing her up.

With the meal paid for, Rinoa scouted for an available spot like a vulture. Her favorite table by the window was claimed, though at least the counter along the back wall was clean. She sat between two patrons, who were occupied more with their meals than the newcomer joining the counter. Rinoa considered that a blessing.

Holding her cheeks up with loose fists, Rinoa stared blankly at the surface. She promised herself to not regret leaving Deling City and ultimately Fury. That life was gone, buried behind her along with his name. Timber was a chance to start over, to prove she was more than the daughter of a prestigious military officer. It was why she chose _her_ name instead of Fury’s. Maybe if she clung to it like the ring dangling from the silver chain, then, in a way, she would still be there, still watching over Rinoa.

Like she never left to begin with.

Rinoa squeezed her eyes shut. _Not going to cry_ , she repeated a million times. But the more she conjured Julia to her thoughts, the more those painful prickles teased her eyelids.

She counted on one hand the holidays she remembered with her mother. Glittering wrapping paper and yummy hot chocolate occupied her attention more than the woman who bestowed said gifts to her. But how was a child to comprehend the borrowed time they cherished together? What difference would it have even made? No crying or begging would save Julia. Rinoa learned that years ago.

Still… she couldn’t help but wonder what life held if Julia stayed present. Maybe there would be baking and cooking lessons, complete with bowls and spoons to lick. Maybe there would be more piano practice for the select songs played for winter solstice. Maybe there would be last minute ventures into the city to hunt down an elusive gift. Maybe there would be mulled cider and handmade scarves and late-night cartoons and warm laughter.

Maybe. But what difference did it make now?

Angelo propped herself up against Rinoa’s lap beneath the counter, pawing at her torso with a whine. Sniffling and drying her eyes, Rinoa stroked Angelo’s fur to reassure that all would be well. _Everything happened for a reason,_ she mused. _If Mom hadn_ _’t left, then… I wouldn’t be here… but maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did and I wouldn’t_ need _to leave, but—_

A plate slid into view. Seafood bisque filled the bowl to the brim with a cranberry scone tucked underneath. A mug of mocha followed behind, complete with a liberal scoop of whipped cream.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

Rinoa blinked and turned around. Instead of the usual waitress serving her lunch, Banessa loomed behind with a soft smile.

“I don’t have anything to remedy a burnt mouth,” Banessa said, “aside from a can of ‘I told you so.’”

Rubbing a loose fist beneath her nose, Rinoa forced a smile. “Thanks, Banessa.”

After a pause, Banessa sighed, stepped closer, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “What’s your evening looking like?”

“Um… open? I think?” _None of the Owls said anything about plans tonight._

Banessa nodded, her smile widening. “Quarter past after the shop closes—you come around back, alright?”

Rinoa tilted her head. “Uh… why’s that?”

“Well, _someone_ _’s_ got to show you how to bake around here. Might as well be me and the wife.”

 

* * *

 

A single light glowed within The Moogly Woogly. Past the clean, empty tables and barren counter was the kitchen, full of decadent scents and laughter. Angelo lay outside the entrance, licking a plastic toy stuffed with peanut butter hidden in the crevasses. As for Rinoa, she sipped her hot chocolate, leaned into the flour-covered table, and listened to the two women sharing stories.

Rinoa caught glimpses of Tilia in the kitchen when she stopped by for lunch. While smaller than Banessa, Tilia shared Banessa’s grandiose spirit and charm. Their joint effort established the very cafe Rinoa frequented and their adoration for one another was only matched by their prowess in the kitchen. To interact with both was a treat surpassed by even their baked goods.

“And after she chased one too many numbskulls out with nothing but a rolling pin and some colorful words,” Banessa said, elbowing Tilia, “we figured it was best if _I_ held the fort up front while she kept order in the kitchen.”

Tilia almost choked on her mulled cider with laughter. “Someone had to call them out on their attempts to score a free meal.” She rolled her eyes. “Hairs in their muffins, my ass. Showing me a _brown_ hair and claiming it was mine.”

Rinoa snickered with both the blonde-haired ladies. A moogle-shaped egg timer rang and vibrated on the table. Tilia grinned, slapped it off, and beckoned to Rinoa.

“Let’s see how we’re looking!” she said, slipping on her glasses before cracking open the massive oven.

The aroma bursting forth left all three humming with delight. Rinoa peeked in and gasped. The plethora of scones turned a gorgeous, light golden brown.

“What do you think?” Tilia asked Rinoa.

“I’m thinking that I might eat these on my own instead of bringing them to the potluck.”

Banessa doubled over with laughter, smacking her thigh. Tilia blinked away tears amidst her cackling.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to judge you and your life decisions!” Tilia slipped on her thick mitts and pulled out each metal tray. “Let them cool down before you gobble them up, though.”

Rinoa swiped potholders to help Tilia. Together, they transferred the scones to wire racks for cooling. She inhaled each batch, her mouth watering over the various flavors.

“We can store them in here for you for easy transporting.” Banessa assembled two massive cardboard boxes meant for a sheet cake, complete with the cafe’s logo stamped on top: a smirking moogle soaking in a hot cup of coffee. “Think that should do it. You can stack one on top of the other no problem. Keep your arms under the bottom one, though, so it doesn’t collapse or anything.”

Rinoa nodded. “Will do.” With all the scones cooling off, she returned to her hot chocolate. She stared into the mug, eyebrows knitting together until a smile formed. “Thank you both so much. Neither of you had to do this for me.”

“You _did_ save us hours of cleaning with all those dishes,” Tilia said. She paused, exchanging looks with Banessa. “But… if anything,” she continued, softer than before, “we should be thanking _you_.”

“What do you mean?”

Tilia fidgeted with her mug and Banessa rubbed her back before speaking. “That protest? Tilia’s brother was one of the ones those military bastards tried to arrest. Had the Owls not done something about it... well, we try not to think about it.” Banessa jabbed a finger in the air to point at Rinoa. “And _you_ certainly put them in their place. Word has it you ripped a gun out from one of their grubby hands and dismantled it on the spot.”

 _Geez, that_ _’s really what people are going to remember me for, isn’t it?_ “Um... yeah.” Rinoa dropped her gaze with a sheepish smile. “We had drills for doing that back in military prep. Mostly so we knew how to assemble and load them on the spot. I had more fun dismantling guns than using them, I guess.”

“Whatever the case,” Tilia said, her voice cracking for but a second, “I can’t thank you enough for your efforts. The Owls are lucky to have someone like you in their ranks.”

Rinoa coughed up a half-hearted chuckle. “I like to think that.”

Both Banessa and Tilia contorted their faces.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Banessa asked, borderline furious. “You’ve done so much in such short time. It’s a _lot_ more effort than some people I know, trust me.”

Her eyes flicked back and forth between them. Drawing in a breath and clutching her mug tighter, Rinoa unhinged the mental floodgates.

“Because I’m not _from_ here,” she said. “Because I’m just some city girl who got caught up in a dumb school project and thought maybe I could do more than expose the truth in Deling City. Because I grew up with a luxurious lifestyle and don’t know the first thing about loss.”

 _At least not_ that _kind of loss,_ she managed to withhold.

The silence pained her more than she wanted it to. A breath rattled out of Rinoa and she hunched over the table, unable to eye either of the kind ladies who sacrificed their free time after hard labor to spend it with her. It wasn’t their problem to twist themselves up in; Rinoa had to fight this battle alone.

That gentle hand resting over hers said otherwise.

“Where you came from,” Tilia said, a fire smoldering in her voice, “doesn’t matter. I know _plenty_ of people who call Timber their home and turn a blind eye to the Galbadian forces going about as they damned well please instead of _doing_ something about it. I don’t think highly of people who prefer to sit by as the world zips past them. But you? _You_ did something because you wanted to, because something sparked inside you chose to not ignore it. If anything, the fact you _are_ from Deling City should speak even more of your efforts. While the rest of the city folk are content ignoring our day-to-day horrors, _you_ wanted nothing to do with that. _You_ abandoned everything you knew and loved to come here and help. You wake up every day knowing this isn’t your battle to fight, yet you stay and do just that. If that’s not bravery, I don’t know what is.” She squeezed Rinoa’s hand. “And you’ll always have my support.”

Rinoa’s eyes drifted elsewhere. “I don’t know what was even left in Deling City for me to love. All of that was taken from me years before I showed up in Timber.” She shrugged. “It just... took me way too long to muster up the strength to walk away.”

“What do you mean, Rinoa deary?” Banessa asked.

With a deep breath, she explained. She spoke of her love for art and how her colorful sketchbooks were what landed her in the military prep academy. She spoke of the strict rules she abided before she reached her teenage years. She spoke of Julia’s death and what else died in the household that dreadful day.

Rinoa pawed for her mother’s wedding ring. Julia wouldn’t have let her rot away for Fury’s amusement. She would have wanted Rinoa to spread her wings and flourish. At least Rinoa was inclined to believe so. What else was she to tell herself?

“You’re not so different from us as you think you are,” Banessa said when the silence returned.

Blinking away tears, Rinoa lifted her chin. Both ladies smiled.

“We’ve all lost something,” Tilia added. “One’s loss isn’t less significant because someone’s else was more brutal.”

Rinoa swallowed. “But I wasn’t caught up in a revolution—”

“You were deprived of a proper childhood,” Banessa said. “So were many others your age around here and they’ve joined the resistance all the same. If you don’t find common ground with them? Then you’re always going to be at odds with one another. Why waste your energy worrying about what others will think of you when you can spend it doing what _does_ make you happy? Lead by example, if you ask me. You’ll attract the people you _want_ in your life that way.”

Tilia smirked. “Sounds kind of like how we met—”

“Oh hush, you.” Banessa playfully whacked her arm and they snickered. So did Rinoa. “But the truth is you can’t make everyone in your life happy, Rinoa deary. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be. Can you imagine if _we_ worried about _every_ customer liking _every_ damn thing they buy here? We know our product is good and savor that with the people who do appreciate it. The rest? Pffff, they can find somewhere else to get their coffee for all I care. Not worth more than a passing thought if you ask me.”

Easier said than done, that much was certain, though something rang true in Banessa’s logic. All it took was a matter of breaking the lens Fury forced her to perceive the world through and reframe it with a new outlook. It started with a train ticket to Timber, after all—why end there?

“I think I can manage that,” Rinoa said after rolling it about in her head. “Or at least try, anyways.”

“You never know until you try.” Banessa nodded firmly. “That’s what my mother always said, though it was mostly about broccoli and stupid boys knocking at the door.”

“Speaking of trying,” Tilia said, reaching across to swipe a handful of scones, “let’s end this baking extravaganza with a well-deserved treat!”

“Tilia! The _nerve_ you have!”

She glared at her wife, munching away with stuffed cheeks. “What!?”

“They’re _Rinoa_ _’s_!”

“We _helped_!”

“And what kind of example are we setting for the young girl?! You yell at me when I try to steal a muffin from your morning bake before we open up!”

“Because we need to sell them!”

“I’m your _wife_!”

Rolling her eyes and swallowing, Tilia turned to Rinoa. “Would it be alright if—”

“Yes, of course!” Rinoa burst into a giggling fit. “I’d love to share.”

“See?!” Tilia gestured at Rinoa. “She doesn’t mind!”

Banessa shook her head and tsked. “You’re unbelievable sometimes, I swear.” She plucked the remaining scones from Tilia’s grasp and handed one to Rinoa. “Dig in, Rinoa deary, before _somebody_ devours them all.”

While the two bickered, Rinoa sunk her teeth into the buttery goodness that was her scone. She moaned, savoring the sugar crusted on top and the blueberries bursting with sweet flavor.

“This is _so_ good,” Rinoa said with a full mouth.

“ _You_ did good,” Tilia said.

“I mean... it was your recipe... in your kitchen.”

Tilia waved a nonchalant hand. “Detail details. We supervised, but you did most of the hard work.”

“I wouldn’t classify reaching the top shelves for ingredients as hard work,” Banessa mumbled.

Tilia raised a finger in self-defense. “I’m small _and_ capable of reaching the top shelf.”

“With a broom handle, no less.”

“You’re jealous I make it look so easy.” Tilia stuck out her tongue. “ _You_ picked me.”

Rinoa almost spat out her scone from laughing so hard.

 

* * *

 

Drunken chatter and a static-filled grunge melody reverberated through the corridor. Rinoa inched to the origin, clutching the two, unwieldy boxes stuffed with scones. Angelo led the way, ears perked and tongue dangled out. It wasn’t until they reached the luxury train cabin that they arrived at the potluck party.

There was nothing luxurious about said cabin anymore. The spray paint graffiti wasn’t high art, though the clever derogatory remarks towards the president left Rinoa smirking. Various resistance members hung out together in the cramped space, sharing spiked cider and crude stories alike. An old bed sheet draped over a row of boxes along one wall, where countless bowls, trays, and slow cookers offered enough food to feed all of Timber. Fairy lights wove across the walls to spell out _Happy Winter Solstice_ , though the spacing and sizing left little to be desired. That didn’t matter, however, when the quality entertainment resided in the company.

“Hey, Rinoa!”

Watts approached her with flailing arms. He wore an oversized knit sweater with tonberries plastered on the front, complete with scarves, mittens, snowflakes, and… were those _actual_ fairy lights flickering on the fabric?

“So glad you could make it!” Watts’ grin widened upon eyeing the boxes in her arms. “Oh man, what did you bring?!”

“Hopefully enough scones so everyone can have one.”

He gasped and pointed at the logo. “And from The Moogly Woogly, too?! You need to put orders for that kind of thing like, _months_ in advance for this time of the year!”

She bit back a grin of her own. “Well… let’s just say I had some help from the owners.”

“Wow! That’s so cool! Come on, let’s find some space for you and add it to the spread.”

Watts gestured for Rinoa to follow and navigated through the dense crowd. Several eyes followed her, silently judging while carrying out a conversation. Rinoa held her head high and marched by without a second thought. At the end of the makeshift table, Watts consolidated paper plates and cups until Rinoa squeezed both boxes onto the surface. She cracked open each box to reveal an assortment of scones: cranberry, blueberry, apple-cinnamon, maple oat nut, currant orange, pumpkin, and—

“Are those chocolate chip scones?!”

Rinoa flinched at the squealing in her ear, yet laughed. “They’re not exactly cookies, but I made sure there were some extra chocolate chip ones for you, Watts.”

“Oh man, you’re the best!” He swiped a couple to pile onto a plate and immediately bit off a chunk. “Mmmm and so are these!”

Blush highlighted her cheeks. “Thanks. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed, you know?”

“Thank _you_! These made my night!” He gestured to the rest of the feast splayed before them. “Fix up a plate of whatever. Don’t let any of it go to waste.” Then Watts turned around to yell, “Hey guys! Rinoa brought scones! They’re _delicious_!”

Several faces lit up at the mere mention of the treats. While she grabbed one of everything for her plate, a small crowd loomed over the scones.

“Oooo pumpkin scones!”

“Aw yeah, maple oat nut! My favorite!”

“Whoa, are these from The Moogly Woogly?!”

“I love that place!”

“Did you _see_ that line out the door yesterday?”

“Yeah, I wanted to grab some pastries, but I wasn’t going to wait in _that_ all day.”

“Dude, it would’ve been worth it.”

“Who cares when we got it brought to us!”

“Hell yeah!”

Rinoa smiled and nestled in a corner to munch on marinated chicken skewers with mashed sweet potatoes, roasted carrots, deviled eggs, veggie chips, buttered dinner rolls, bacon-wrapped hot dogs, a slice of one of the five promised cakes, and more buried beneath the tasty mound. “I think we did alright, Angelo.” She laughed as Angelo licked her hand. “I can’t share, though! Nothing for a puppy here!”

Angelo’s twitching nose shifted away. She circled someone approaching them, still sniffing for treats to claim.

Zone held his plate high out of Angelo’s reach. “Geez, I don’t have anything for you either, girl.”

Rinoa giggled and licked her lips clean. “She’s better off that way. I don’t want to spoil her any more than she already is.”

“Tell me about it.” He cracked a slight, crooked smile. “Good to see you were able to make it.”

“Thanks.” She wrinkled her nose. “You _did_ invite me, after all. Would be in poor taste if I agreed and then never made an appearance.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“You make it sound like you were expecting me to never stop by.”

Zone sighed. “It has nothing to do with you, trust me. Just… I don’t work myself up over things. Better to expect the worst-case scenario and surprise myself if something good actually happens for once, you know?” He grimaced a beat later. “Not… that I _expect_ you or anyone to know. It’s a dumb saying. I’m rambling—”

“No, I get it.” Rinoa held her breath while collecting her scattered thoughts. “All too well, believe me. It’s like….” Her eyes fell to her plate. “Nothing great has ever happened, so why bother expecting that to change? But surprises are nice, though. Reminds you there’s still good in the world. Or at least… that’s what I try to tell myself.”

“Yeah,” Zone breathed out. “Exactly.”

Rinoa returned her attention to him. “Like I’m surprised I still found chocolate chip cookies up for grabs over there.”

Laughter shot past Zone’s smirking lips. Had she ever witnessed him lost in amusement before?

“Watts got caught up showing off his ugly sweater,” he said.

“Not like he needs to try hard. It _literally_ is covered in flashing lights, which by the way, what is up with that? Some Timber tradition?”

“You city people don’t do ugly sweater parties?”

“Uh… nope. At least not the ones I went to.”

“I guess it’s a tongue-in-cheek gag about all the bad sweaters our grandparents would force us to wear as kids.”

“I’ll stick with my hoodies.” Rinoa pawed at the single chocolate chip cookie on her plate for a big bite. “Though I suppose I should be thankful for said ugly sweater.” She shook the cookie at Zone. “Got to try the famous store-bought cookies of yours, which, for the record, are pretty good.”

Zone didn’t say anything. His smile wavered.

“I, um….” Rinoa shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth. “I brought scones.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Right, Watts made a big announcement about it. Well… I wanted to have enough of a selection to cover all the flavor bases. Wasn’t sure what everyone liked, so… yeah.” She shrugged. “I tried.”

“It’s food, so I doubt anyone will complain.” He paused, eyes switching between Rinoa and his feet. “You… uh, mind if I join you?”

“I mean… aren’t you already?”

Zone scoffed. “No, I meant like—” He gestured at the wall. “Invade your personal bubble. And not stand here awkwardly while people bump into me. I don’t know.”

“ _Oh_. Right.” She scooted over to share the wall space. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks,” he said, struggling not to groan out his appreciation.

Once Zone joined her, Rinoa peered at his plate. Devilish delight tugged her features. “You know, I made chocolate chip scones with Watts in mind. If I had known _you_ were going to steal a bunch—”

“My Dad used to love baking.”

Rinoa blinked and raised an eyebrow. Her lips parted, only to close. Zone winced and slid down to the floor. Rinoa dropped down next to him without question. Even Angelo curled up between them and eyed Zone—though mostly his plate.

“He always made things with chocolate chips,” Zone eventually said, clutching his stomach with one arm, “because I wouldn’t eat them otherwise. You know. Kid logic and all. Food tastes better if you shove chocolate in it. Who would’ve thought, huh?” Rinoa simply nodded. “If Timber hadn’t gone to utter shit… maybe he would’ve opened his own bakery, but… cookies weren’t going to solve our problems and they sure as hell weren’t going to kick those military jerks out. So… yeah, he stopped baking and did what he could. Did what was ‘right,’ according to him.”

Zone picked up a scone, one with a few sizable chunks taken out of it, and added another dent to it. He licked crumbs and chocolate smears from the corners of his mouth. “This?” He held up the scone. “He would’ve _loved_ this.”

Rinoa drew her knees to her chest and smooshed her cheek on top. She recognized the way his eyes glossed over and it wasn’t from the spiked cider.

“It was my first shot at baking,” Rinoa said. “I had some help, but… yeah. I’m glad you like them.” She drew in a breath, shoved her fears into a figurative box, and spoke, “I’m sorry he’s not around to enjoy them with you. Your dad, that is.”

He squinted and chewed.

“Is that why you always bring chocolate chip cookies to the potlucks?” Rinoa asked.

Zone nodded. “It doesn’t feel right if I don’t. Someone has to, anyways. And I don’t know how to bake, so….”

“Well, that makes two of us. I grew up with personal chefs making custom meals daily, so I’m a bit clueless when it comes to navigating my way around a kitchen, unless it’s to a fridge for a midnight snack.”

“Oh, poor you.”

Rinoa snickered. “It really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, trust me. Besides, I’d rather have something like this.” She lifted her plate and finished off her chicken, sucking her fingers clean. “This is way more my speed than any fancy-schmancy dinner party.”

“Ugly sweaters and all?”

“Sure, I’ll take it if it means I don’t need to stand around and listen to old men blab about how important they are and pretend I care.”

“Yeesh, that bad?”

“You don’t even know half of it.”

Between bites of mismatched food, Rinoa swapped stories with Zone. She rattled off the holiday galas she attended and how she snuck into the kitchen to swipe desserts before they were ever served. He recounted the family gatherings he spent battling for the last sliver of cranberry sauce, back when he still had blood relatives to call his own. They groaned and laughed over every humiliating moment which emerged from their memories. They shared sentiments only children exposed to grief and death were accustomed to: the empty seats at the dining room table, the awkward silence after a forgotten name surfaced years later, the hollow wound no number of hugs or treats could ever heal.

He never needed to tell Rinoa what happened, nor did she expect the gritty details to slip past his lips. It didn’t matter, in a sense. She was no stranger to the heartache which accompanied a lost parent. No one deserved that agony, especially a child.

“You know,” Zone said once their plates emptied, “you’re a lot easier to talk to than I thought you’d be.”

Rinoa giggled, lolling her head to the side. “You make it sound like I’m a monstrous cockatrice or something.”

“Eh, I was thinking a marlboro.” She whacked his shoulder and he snickered. “But seriously… it’s nice.”

“What is?”

“I don’t know… being able to talk to someone and not… wanting to throw up or collapse to the ground screaming.”

She held her tongue and listened.

“Sometimes,” Zone continued, “I wish I could flip off the switches in my brain that made me want to panic whenever the wind shifts. I hate this feeling. I hate how it controls my life half of the time. Like… everyone talks about how I’m as good of a leader as my Dad was—” Nervous laughter sputtered out while Zone shook his head. “I don’t think it’s so much that I’m _good_ at leading as it is that I’m an anxious disaster trying to keep everything from falling apart, because no one else will step up and do it.” He tilted his head back against the wall and peered at Rinoa. “But I’ve been feeling less and less like that around you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Sure? Guess it should be, but… shit, I’ve known people my whole life who make me cramp up and I’ve known you for what? Two weeks? That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“It makes perfect sense.” She reached down to pat Angelo, who continued to nestle between them. “I’ve also known Angelo for two weeks and it’s like we’re best friends.”

“She’s also a _dog_.”

“I stand by my point. Besides, just because you’ve known someone forever doesn’t mean they’re entitled to be close to you.”

Zone’s face softened, the dim lightning glowing in his eyes. “Yeah.”

“There you are!”

Rinoa and Zone craned their heads back to find Watts looming above. He balanced two plates stuffed with scones in one arm and three bottles of spiked cider in the other. His tonberry sweater continued to twinkle like a kaleidoscope.

“You say it like you lost us,” Zone said. “The cabin’s not _that_ big.”

“We’ve been here the whole time,” Rinoa added. “Promise.”

Watts tilted his head. “Why are you two on the floor?”

“Standing’s overrated,” Rinoa said.

Zone snorted. Watts shrugged.

“Works for me,” Watts said. “Mind if I join in on this anti-standing party?”

“You plan on sharing any of that?” Zone gestured to his pile of goods with a jerk of his chin.

“Oh, sure thing! I grabbed these for us! The last of the scones, too. They were a big hit, Rinoa!”

“That’s good to hear.” She examined the bottle Watts handed to her. “There’s… actual alcohol in this, right?”

“Don’t tell me this is your first time drinking, Princess,” Zone teased.

“Hey! Maybe it is!” She stuck her tongue out.

“Not to worry, Princess,” Watts chimed in. “We’ll get that city sheen off of you in no time!”

Rinoa slumped with a groan. “Man, what is it with you two ganging up on me?!” She jabbed a finger into Zone’s side. “And here I thought we were getting along!”

“We _are_.” Zone cracked his bottle open for a swig. “Besides, we don’t give out nicknames to just any random resistance member.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Nah!” Watts snorted. “It’s like your family now! Always wanted a kid sister, too.”

Rinoa froze. Her heart skipped a beat. Her brown eyes darted back and forth between them. Nothing but smiles greeted her. Stuck between wanting to laugh or cry, Rinoa drew in a dry breath and hoped her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her.

“You’re joking, right?” she asked.

“I mean,” Zone said, “I was hoping for a little brother, but I guess a spoiled sister is better than nothing.”

“ _Hey_!”

Laughter rolled through them, drowned down with crisp cider and sweet scones.

“Besides,” Zone said after swallowing, “of all the times we couldn’t choose the outcome, of all the shit we’ve been through and will _keep_ going through… better to pick the people we want to endure it all with, right?”

The alcohol wasn’t to blame for her cheeks warming up. Rinoa smiled, unable to pinpoint the sentiment overflowing in her chest. For all her life, she defined family by those who shared her blood. But she tore her roots from the soil and sought for a new home. Why wouldn’t she also discover a new family along the way?

“Yeah,” she said effortlessly. “I can get behind that.”

They dove into new discussion while nursing their ciders. Watts promised to unearth an ugly sweater for Rinoa while she also promised she’d be caught dead wearing it outside of the resistance train. Zone basked in lulls of silence, scritching Angelo’s ears and stealing unfinished scones from Watts’ plate. Other members made their way to the trio to chat, either thanking Rinoa for the delicious treats or for her help with recent operations. Both humbled her. She smiled until her cheeks hurt.

People came and went from the potluck party, but the fairy lights glowed, the spiked cider emptied, and the three of them stuck together until the wee hours of the morning, laughter spilling out of the cabin and train until it faded with the night.


End file.
